


A summer in Changsha

by huashan



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Face-Sitting, Ice Play, M/M, PWP, Riding, Temperature Play, i don't know how people find fics here im worried lmao, it's hot and they sweat, soo is a writer, xing owns a shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 20:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huashan/pseuds/huashan
Summary: Kyungsoo and Yixing fight off the heat.





	A summer in Changsha

**Author's Note:**

> hi, my first fic posted here

During this time of the year, Changsha is drowned in scorching hot weather. The sun burns unforgivably bright and the soft breeze, that once in a while blows the wind in Kyungsoo's face, gives the slightest hope of a breath of fresh air, but when it hits the skin it's unnervingly warm, drying.

Kyungsoo had never thought of himself as a person particularly sensitive to high temperatures, but his stay in the Hunan region has made sure to completely debunk that belief.

Today the heat seems especially unbearable, Kyungsoo's head, neck and back are overheating, sticky and damp with sweat. His right hand moves to cover his forehead in an attempt to shield his eyes from the insistent sun and, at the same time, shed some wetness trailing down his skin. It's a lost battle against the summer weather. His fingers travel up to his hair, to feel its short, coarse texture tickle his pads.

The road he's walking on is eerily empty. The only sounds filling the mute air are the restless songs of the cicadas, the echoes of pop music blasted through speakers and radios and the loud voices of the locals and tourists clogging the bars and shops.

This carefully programmed break from Seoul has been his editor's idea, he expected a nice breath of the thick, heavily polluted, Chinese air to fix Kyungsoo's degenerative writer's block. Despite the expectations and efforts put into it, the word document on his computer hasn't experienced any substantial improvement.

His entire mind is stuck in a weird tangle of complicated arrangements, unsolved plot lines and baseless characters that seem too difficult to solve with his skills alone. Entire stories and characters are born and killed off in his mind before he can even start typing. None of them are enough: they don't make sense, have no depth, no decent backstory, no actual reason to exist.

It's currently the afternoon of a calm Tuesday, he's been in Changsha for almost a whole month and the small apartment, rented for him by the publishing company, has already started to feel more akin to a prison than a haven. The more time he spends sitting in front of his laptop or with his pen in hand, the more he's pushed to go out and take a break from everything. Today is no different: Kyungsoo has found himself out of there before realizing it, in dire need for a distraction.

He's already imagining fresh tea and ice creams, anything cold enough to cool down the vicious circle of his thoughts as well as his body temperature. Fortunately, he knows exactly where to go to find the most effective products.

He remembers the path to the small shop he's directed to by heart, it's a simple corner store hidden among narrow passages and a few abandoned buildings. Half-way through it Kyungsoo stops thinking about his route all together, letting his muscle memory pull him through the short distance. The heat is still attacking him with its full force, the sun is hitting square on the top of his head and he fears his rubber slippers might melt against the concrete at any time; he's wearing the flimsiest of clothes, but the weather makes cotton feel like wool. His shorts stick to his thighs, the dark blue fabric drags against his skin as he walks forward, his white shirt adheres to his chest, damp with perspiration.

After the short walk is past him, the chaotic window of the familiar shop finally enters his sight. The road and buildings are drowned in soulless grays and browns, once in a while there are sounds echoing in the empty street, but otherwise, it stays still in perfect silence. In the middle of  this post-apocalyptic scenery, seated on the threshold, with his legs sprawled out and his attention focused on his phone, there's one of the most riveting people he's ever known, the owner; a man a few years older than Kyungsoo and also the only person he's met here, outside of his contacts in the Chinese publishing world, with a decent grasp of Korean, much more decent than Kyungsoo's Mandarin.

"Hey," Yixing looks up at him from his spot on the floor, he greets and extends his arms wordlessly demanding  to be helped standing up. "It's really hot today." he continues.

"Yeah." Kyungsoo responds hastily and closes his hands around the man's wrists, his fingers dig in the man's flesh as he pulls him up. Yixing raises slowly from the floor, having Kyungsoo handle his entire weight, his unusual laziness taking full advantage of Kyungsoo's willingness to help. As soon as he's on his feet, he moves to one side of the door, inviting Kyungsoo to enter. The arm that circles Kyungsoo's neck makes him grimace, his and Yixing's sweaty skin stick onto each other.

They pause briefly in front of the fan standing in one of the corners of the shop, a few breaths pass with Kyungsoo basking in the shortlived relief of a free blow of midly less warm air.

The shop owner disentangles himself from him and walks to his position behind the counter on the right end of the small room. The piece of furniture is loaded with all kinds of objects, from entire stocks of nail clippers to text books and cheap paper fans, among the mess he can barely make out the register.  
   
"What can I get you?" Kyungsoo's gaze moves from the chaotic counter to Yixing's skimpily clothed torso, the loose tank top sticks weirdly against patches of his damp chest. The owner laughs at the long pause and asks again, this time using Korean, giving to the younger the opportunity to appreciate how his thick lips curl awkwardly around the foreign syllables of Kyungsoo's native language.

"Something fresh." he ends up responding, but instead of waiting for Yixing's suggestion he walks to the small refrigerator occupying the opposite end of the store. The slide of the transparent door is noisy, it disrupts the still quiet atmosphere settled around them; once it's open, the frigid coldness flowing out of it hits Kyungsoo's skin satisfyingly. It makes the tip of his nose and cheeks prickle as if it were proper winter air, the layer of sweat on his forehead and on his shirt grows cold against him and the skin on his arms raises in heavenly chills.

The tips of his fingers freeze as he grasps two popsicles, one cherry and the other mint flavoured. He closes the door to the arctic paradise and turns, walking straight towards the counter. Yixing is still standing behind it, but now he's slouched over the piece of furniture, holding the right side of his head in his hand, his elbow digging in the cover of a book about self discovery and acceptance.

"I've already had four since this morning," Yixing tells him, his light voice drags the words, almost as if it takes too much effort too articulate properly. Kyungsoo poses the popsicles on a tiny patch of free space on the counter, he slaps his cooled hands on his forehead and drags them around his face "They didn't make any difference, though." the owner of the shop adds.

"How do you survive this every year?" Kyungsoo asks, still enjoying the sweet remnants of coldness lingering on his skin.

"I don't know... Nice visions in white sure help me going." Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and let's his hands fall from his face, Yixing is biting his lower lip, purposely enticingly in the most annoying way. Kyungsoo pinches the white t-shirt he's wearing to pull it off his damp skin, he would have never thought he had it in him to sweat this much. Yixing's slim, shameless fingers join his, he pulls the white fabric further from the other's tanned skin and then dives in, seeking contact between his palm and Kyungsoo's abdomen. Kyungsoo slaps his hand away, Yixing clicks his tongue and his voice breaks in a disappointed whine; soon he quietens down, but he keeps up the act, letting his lower lip jut in a silent pout.

"Spoilsport." He whispers and straightens himself to start typing on the register "Ten yuan." Kyungsoo lowers his eyes and slips his wallet out of the pocket of his pants, he catches Yixing's hand grasp the popsicles, but doesn't think too much of it, being too occupied with fumbling with the coins for a while; when he's finally sure of the amount he's gathered, Yixing has unwrapped the cherry popsicle and already put it against his dry looking lips.

He was probably waiting for Kyungsoo's eyes to be trained on him to push the sweet, iced stick past his lips, because as soon as their gazes lock into each other, the popsicle enters his mouth, cold ice dragging over his thick lips deliberately sloppily.

Being far from home, means for Kyungsoo also being far from his small army of _friends_ , the kind of friends that don't hesitate to put their hands down his pants and don't ask for anything else. Not having anyone to screw was supposed to be one of his manager's countermeasures to keep Kyungsoo's distractions to a minimum and help him immerse himself in his work. If only he knew how easy it's been for Yixing to chase any thought of chastity away from his mind.

"It's really way too hot today." Yixing's popsicle exits his mouth with a pop, his lips free the cold treat reluctantly. His naturally calm voice is made the slightest bit higher, breathier; rushing quickly towards the filthiest tones Kyungsoo has heard him create. Kyungsoo stares at him blankly, but it's not too long before he takes the bait.

Kyungsoo's thumb and forefinger clasp the thin wooden stick poking out of the popsicle. Yixing's own fingers leave the wood to rest on the back of Kyungsoo's hand, he holds it shallowly. Kyungsoo starts pulling slowly, Yixing's, now deep red, lips curl and swell trying to keep it in. Kyungsoo's own lips fall open as he mirrors Yixing's movements, the elder pushes forward, taking the popsicle back in his mouth, but Kyungsoo keeps pulling, filthy sucking noises echo between them.

Kyungsoo makes him release half of the sweet stick and then pushes it back in with no warning, trying to get the whole thing in Yixing's mouth. Yixing flinches, one of his eyes closes and his face scrunches up, the familiar sight of the dimple on his right cheek takes Kyungsoo's attention. Yixing's hands move to grip Kyungsoo's wrist, his deft fingers root in his flesh, his fingernail leave light indents on his skin. There's a loud slurping sound and then muffled words as the ice makes his cheek bulge, the sounds bring a smile on Kyungsoo's lips.

"So pretty..." Yixing's eyes squint in defiance, he's made clear that he doesn't like being subject to such words, but Kyungsoo loves to tease him, but clearly in more ways than just with words. Yixing keeps his gaze trained on him as best as he can, despite having to deal with the cold cherry ice being pushed and pulled in and out of his mouth. There's already spit running down his chin, it drips on his prominent collarbones and rolls down his neck, it dissolves among the perspiration gathered on his skin.

Yixing is forced to cut the eye contact when Kyungsoo forces the popsicle completely out of his mouth. His teeth catch on the frigid treat making him shiver, his voice jumps in his throat in a meek sob.  
   
Now that his mouth has been freed there's more spit exuding, a thin thread of saliva connects the popsicle to his upper lip, Kyungsoo 's eyes can't help but follow its trail and appreciate how the thick reddened flesh looks excruciatingly inviting. He cups one of Yixing's cheeks and lets his thumb press on his fleshy bottom lip, he pushes and drags, the melted ice left by the popsicle freezes the tip of his finger.

The popsicle in his other hand is melting steadily, drop after drop dribble down his arm until they reach his elbow and fall to the floor, one catches his exposed toes. The perfume of the cherry flavour is flooding the hot air around them.

"Qing Zhu... My father's out today." Yixing falls into Mandarin, his voice sounds deeper and flows easier. The information makes Kyungsoo hum, images from a couple of days ago knock on the wall of his morally filtered thoughts; soon all he can think about is the memory of Yixing on his knees behind the shop counter with an inch of his dick down his throat, while his father was working in the small office at the back of the store.

He has to clear his throat after that, his touch on Yixing's cheek becomes more insistent, his thumb moves to stroke his cheekbone, giving some rest time to his abused lips. If his father is out it means they can use his studio and that they won't be risking being seen by the rare customers that might enter the shop, although Yixing hasn't made a secret of how much the possibility of being caught stirs him up.

They stumble around the rooms, leaving the shop behind, to close themselves in Yixing's father's office. The room is mostly empty, on the walls there are bookshelves filled with papers Kyungsoo knows nothing about; in the middle of the small makeshift office there's a table, arranged to stand by a small window, which provides the only source of light of the room. The light filtering through the glass is dim, yellow, barely enough to make Kyungsoo appreciate each detail of Yixing's perfect face.

Once the door has been locked, Yixing walks up to him, he stops only when his chest hits Kyungsoo's shoulder. The popsicle has left long, icy, red paths down Kyungsoo's arm, Yixing's fingers stroke his wrist and his head dips low, until his tongue flicks out of his swollen lips and follows each route from Kyungsoo's elbow up to his palm, before devoting all his attentions to Kyungsoo's fingers, the sugar of the popsicle has made them sticky and sweet, giving to Yixing a perfect excuse to lick between each pair. As he works on them, his stare doesn't falter from Kyungsoo's open lips and dark eyes.

"Take it," Kyungsoo's voice becomes deeper as he tries to whisper, the more his tone lowers the harder it becomes to distinguish exactly what he's trying to say. Yixing is too close not to understand, though, so he leaves his ministrations unfinished and follows the command. His right hand retrieves the popsicle from Kyungsoo's.

Now, with both of his hands free, Kyungsoo gives himself the time to indulge himself in Yixing's alluring form. He starts from his hips, his long fingers slip under the dark gray tank top the shop owner is wearing and his thumbs dig, almost meanly, into the perfect curves of his v lines. Yixing's back arches, his chest pushes itself closer to Kyungsoo; the latter's hands busy themselves with the flimsy fabric obstructing the view of Yixing's torso, he pulls it up and bunches it under Yixing's armpits. The top is wet with sweat and juice from the popsicle, the dampness has left Yixing's skin gleaming, the creases and lines on his body shine under the soft light coming from the only window in the room.

Yixing takes a step back and Kyungsoo follows, his hands are still gripping the tank top and refuse to let it roll back onto his torso; he continues to pull it upwards until Yixing has to raise his arms to help him get it off. They end up standing in front of the table Yixing's father uses as a desk; Yixing's right arm rests on Kyungsoo's shoulder, the latter feels a sharp frosty sensation pervade the area in contact with it, a glance back to the other's hand reminds him of the popsicle, he turns in time to see another drop fall onto his white t-shirt. Kyungsoo grips Yixing's elbow and pulls it to rest between them, Yixing doesn't say anything, letting the younger man do whatever he wants to. The popsicle stops in front of Kyungsoo's lips, his tongue darts out to have a taste of the rapidly melting treat.

It's still so cold. It feels like his tongue is going to get stuck on it, but he doesn't have the time to enjoy it, not with Yixing trying to get rowdy with his mouth. His hand tries to push the popsicle through Kyungsoo's thick lips, a few gasps already slip past his own just by imagining it; Kyungsoo's eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head and tightens his fist around Yixing's elbow

"You did it to me before." Yixing says, a perfectly thought-out cutesy expression morphs his face.

"So?" Kyungsoo questions, his tongue takes another swipe and then pushes Yixing's hand aside, his face draws closer to Yixing's

"It's my turn..." Yixing continues indignantly, purposely petulant, just because he can.

Kyungsoo snorts at that and moves even closer, a tentative smile breaches his lips. His breath is cold when it hits Yixing's skin, Kyungsoo blows cold hair against his lips and a light shudder passes through him, making his fingers twitch around a fistful of Kyungsoo's shirt. Kyungsoo's smile widens, his hands are back on Yixing's torso, his thumbs dance across his ribs, under his lightly accented pectorals and on his perky nipples, Kyungsoo toys with them half-heartedly.

Yixing molds himself around him, he smells of sweat and of a faint hint of tobacco, his skin is hot and his serious, half-lidded eyes search Kyungsoo's face, trying to look out for his next move and admire the half smirk on his lips. Kyungsoo's smile falls the moment his teeth bite Yixing's full lower lip and tug lightly, his eyes look at the flesh trying to escape his grasps and then glance up, meeting Yixing's intense gaze and seeing it crumble as Kyungsoo's eyebrows crease and the grip of his teeth becomes less teasing and more forceful. Yixing's mouth falls open, he gasps and his hand, still clutched on his shirt, pulls Kyungsoo closer.

"'Soo" he sounds breathless, his voice stuck somewhere down his throat; Kyungsoo doesn't give him time to gather himself, choosing to coax him right into a kiss. His tongue lingers on his Yixing's bottom lip as their mouths slide together in a series of lazy, sloppy pecks; his eyes close as his tongue pushes in, revising all the routes discovered during this past month, it toys with Yixing's own tongue and then gives short swipes to the roof of his mouth.

A sudden jolt of coldness startles him, his lips stumble awkwardly into the kiss, he pinches Yixing's side when he feels his chest tremble with badly concealed laughter. One of his eyes opens slowly, finding the smooth expanse of Yixing's cheek creased by a dimple and his eyelashes fluttering as he opens his own eyes. The kissing stops, Yixing detaches himself with a low hum of appreciation, Kyungsoo glares at him when he bumps their foreheads together and bites his lip, seemingly not even thinking about moving the popsicle from where he's keeping it, against the skin of Kyungsoo's nape.

"Refreshing, right?" he asks, his head tilts innocently, but the mischievous curl on his lips makes his real intentions obvious. Surprisingly, Kyungsoo finds himself agreeing; once the thermal shock has faded away, the freshness on his skin has become delightful. Although, instead of answering Yixing's rhetoric inquiry, he shifts his attention back on the other's clothes, his dexterous fingers migrate immediately from Yixing's waist to the elastic keeping his shorts tight around his hips, he doesn't get to pull them off yet, but his hands find a welcome deviation as they slide over the elder man's ass.

There isn't too much to fondle, but the toned flesh feels nice in his hands all the same, he wonders how Yixing manages to keep himself in shape, seeing how he spends most of his day in the shop. His head provides thoughts of Yixing jogging to work, under the bright early morning sun, clad in his usual skimpy clothes and panting, flush in the face with exhaustion; or of Yixing crouching, all his weight resting on his toes, his calves and thighs quivering in exertion as he raises to haul boxes and heavy bags full of things to sell, his lean biceps bulging, he groans and sweats. Kyungsoo tends to do this a lot, his imagination tries to fill in the gaps in Yixing's persona and in his delusive words, it paints surrogates of the things he'd like to see and it helps to get his pants tighter.

His hands splay over Yixing's ass, he cups it, spreads and gropes, while backing Yixing against the table. The pushing prompts Yixing to jump on the wooden surface and sit on it, Kyungsoo's hands move from his behind to the elastic fabric of Yixing's boxers digging into the flesh of his hips. They look at each other, both expecting the other's move and planning their own.

Yixing stops bothering the skin of Kyungsoo's back and brings the popsicle back between his lips, his free hand tugs on the white shirt still covering Kyungsoo's upper torso,

"Get this off," his hand has already pulled it off Kyungsoo's abdomen. In comparison to Yixing, Kyungsoo's body isn't particularly defined, the sedentary life he leads and his scarce visits at the gym, make him lean towards the softer side. Yixing clearly doesn't mind, on the contrary, he can barely mask his appreciation: his wondering hands keep groping, gauging, feeling up Kyungsoo's full thighs, his ass, his soft sides, his arms and anything else they can land on.  
   
"Get it off!" he sounds more indignant than before, his hand still pulling the fabric; if he keeps at it he's going to tear it. Kyungsoo takes a step back, he shoves Yixing's hand away and then poses a palm against his naked chest, he pushes him down, until his back collides with the table and his voice gets stuck in a gasp. The sound makes Kyungsoo laugh, as reaches behind his back to pull the shirt off of himself.

Yixing expresses his appreciation with short, breathy compliments, his arms extend in an attempt to pull Kyungsoo closer. He manages to grasp his shoulder, but instead of following Yixing's desires, Kyungsoo takes a moment to look at him. A short moment to look at him sprawled on the table, clad in nothing but shorts and making a mess of his father's documents, letting the popsicle drip on papers and files. Yixing's smiling, his dimples pierce his cheeks, he looks amazing, deadly and what's worse is that he knows it.

"Do you know how you look right now?" Kyungsoo puts himself between his parted thighs, his hands move beneath the firm flesh and pull upwards, Yixing's legs bend and move further apart. Kyungsoo can make out the form of his hardening dick under his shorts, once Yixing's feet are secured on the table, he smooths his hands down his thighs, the hair prickles his palms.

"No, how do I look?" Yixing responds with a question, his dazed eyes settle on Kyungsoo's hands.

"You look hot," Kyungsoo's hands finally end their descent, posing on the slowly growing erection between Yixing's legs. The elder man snorts, his eyes light up in amusement, his lower lip tucks itself back between his teeth "Looks like you need me to cool you down a bit..." Kyungsoo continues, his left hand is stroking Yixing through his pants, feeling up the length hardening and curving under his ministration. His free hand moves up to reach the dripping popsicle, more than half of it is gone, lost between their lips and on Yixing's father's registers.

Kyungsoo takes the cherry popsicle back in his hold, Yixing's hand and arm are dripping with pink, sweet syrup. "You're right," Yixing's suddenly more reactive, probably already sensing what's going on in Kyungsoo's mind, he scoots on the table and raises his torso, his hands push any hindrance off the surface, until he can splay them on it and have them sustain his weight "Can you help me?"  
     
Kyungsoo's free palm pushes roughly on his erection "I can." his voice somehow goes deeper than it already has, Yixing smiles and shudders as if Kyungsoo's baritone had hit his core and fired up his arousal. The hand between his legs doesn't stop and the other, holding the popsicle, start hovering above his chest. Kyungsoo brushes it against his cheek and then uses it to trace the line of his jaw, Yixing shivers, a deep moan resounds in his throat.

The popsicle continues its journey down his neck, this time Yixing flinches properly, his hand shoots up to grasp Kyungsoo's wrist, but the other doesn't stop; the popsicle climbs over Yixing's left collarbone, he tries to scoot away before it can reach his nipple, Kyungsoo doesn't let him. The younger frees his hand from Yixing's grip and pushes him back to lay on the table "Stay still."

Yixing moans, Kyungsoo's hand splays on his right pectoral and pushes him down as the popsicle finally touches his nipple. Yixing's voice jumps in a shriek, his torso arches and Kyungsoo licks his lips at the sight, "Fucking hell, Yixing..." He digs the ice on the sensitive bud meanly, Yixing's back to grasping his arm, but he doesn't seem sure on whether he should shove him away or let him continue. Before he can decide, Kyungsoo's started to move down again, the popsicle follows the lightly defined lines of Yixing's abs. He trembles and wiggles under him, trying to withdraw from the contact.

"It's too cold..." He complains and closes his eyes, he had been looking at Kyungsoo's hands and the popsicle this whole while, but now he turns his face around and tries to move his legs to push Kyungsoo away "Don't put that near my dick, idiot." he continues, as his legs continue struggling, although without any result. In the midst of his attempts, his right leg looses its spot upon the table and falls limply brushing against Kyungsoo's own leg, Yixing moves it around until it's laying perfectly between both of his tormentor's legs and his knee is perched under the tent swelling in his dark blue shorts.

Kyungsoo's hips jerk back, his dick finding little to no relief in the flimsy touch of Yixing's leg. In retaliation to Yixing's sudden attack, he leaves the popsicle right above the elastic of the other's boxers, his belly retires, trying to escape the icy torture. The contact makes him shudder and wiggle his hips trying to get the ice off him, but also moan out loud stuck in a surprising kind of pleasure. Kyungsoo's hand pushing down Yixing's chest moves to grasp the back of his knee, the other does the same, and when he has him secured in his hands, Kyungsoo starts pulling him towards him. Yixing's back drags with him the rest of the papers, his eyes open lazily and go straight in Kyungsoo's direction.

"How does it feel?" Kyungsoo asks, his hand retakes the popsicle still laying on Yixing's belly.

"Cold." Yixing responds, an unconcealed grumbling to his voice,

"You've had your hands free all this time and you didn't get it off though," Kyungsoo presses and lays the popsicle in the middle of Yixing's chest "It feels good, right?"

"...Yeah."  Yixing's back arches, the cherry treat follows the movement, sliding from his chest down to his belly, leaving a pinkish track of water on his skin. His Adam's apple bobs as he takes a loud gulp of air, he releases it in short trembling breaths, the low temperature sends his whole body on overdrive.

Kyungsoo's hands caress his sides, unable to move his gaze from the scene. His fingers trail on Yixing's hips and linger on the waistband of his shorts, the green fabric is bunched up his thighs and tented obscenely between his legs. Kyungsoo fits his index fingers under the elastic and pulls it down, the shorts leave Yixing's skin and reveal his gray boxers, a tiny wet patch stands out against the cloth, right above the silhouette of the head of Yixing's dick.

Once he has gotten rid of the shorts, Kyungsoo holds Yixing's waist and pulls him up, the popsicle slides on the table as Yixing lets him manhandle him without a word, both know he's more than eager to have Kyungsoo's hands on him like this. He straightens himself until he's seated, Kyungsoo stands between his legs, their crotches are right in front of each other; Yixing's head lolls on his left shoulder and his arms circle Kyungsoo's neck, his eyes burn into Kyungsoo's as he moves his hips and grinds against his hardening cock.

"Can you fuck me, please?" Yixing is whispering sweetly into Kyungsoo's ear, his arms tighten around the younger man's neck and he feels one moment away from suffocating, smoldered by Yixing's expert touches and the scorching temperature of his body. Their chests stick to each other, the skin still shedding perspiration and stained with cherry syrup; instead of cooling Yixing down, Kyungsoo's seems to have ignited a whole newborn fire inside him "I cleaned myself this morning," Yixing's teeth tug Kyungsoo's lobe as he keeps talking. His chest arches trying to adhere against Kyungsoo as much as he can, even though they're already attached to each other "I got myself ready while thinking about you..."

"Thinking about me?" Kyungsoo asks, the nod he receives in response strokes his ego and the hard on he's sporting between his legs; more images of Yixing in lewd positions flood his mind, mostly of Yixing kneeling under the spray of his shower with three fingers pounding his asshole and his lips calling for his name.

Kyungsoo circles Yixing's waist and helps him slide off the table. All of Mr. Zhang's work is scattered on the floor, but Yixing barely seems to notice, not to mention care. Kyungsoo caresses the sides of his neck and coaxes him into another kiss, their lips slot against each other easily, they separate with a quiet smacking noise, Yixing's nose scrunches up as if fighting an itch, while he takes the initiative to turn and bend over his father's desk.

His narrow hips wiggle, Kyungsoo lays his hands on them making them stop. He reaches around and, finally, slips his hand inside Yixing's underwear, while he gives himself some relief, conceding his hips to rocks against Yixing's ass, the pressure is nothing but a light touch, so he pulls down his clothes a bit, just enough to free his cock.

He gives himself a quick pump before fitting his dick between Yixing's clothed asscheeks. The shop owner looks above his shoulder, forcing his eyes for as far as they'll go to have a glance at the scene. Soon he gives up, choosing to drape himself over the table; Kyungsoo is on him almost immediately, his lips kiss Yixing's shoulder blades and down his spine, when his lips pose a lingering peck to Yixing's nape, his eyes flicker to his right. The sight of the almost completely melted popsicle sprouts new ideas at the back of his mind.

He takes it, while Yixing's relaxes completely against the table, his arms bend at his sides, the new position brings out his back muscles and Kyungsoo's hand moves instinctively to trace them with the popsicle.

Yixing whines displeased, one of his arms leave the table to move behind him and try to smack Kyungsoo across the face. Kyungsoo dodges the attack and starts laughing, but doesn't stop leaving icy paths on Yixing's skin, actually, he starts becoming more impatient, swiping the rests of the popsicle harder and quicker against the expanse of beautiful skin in front of him.

When he's arrived to his lower back, he takes a short pause. He kisses Yixing's shoulder, the side of his neck, making him squirm, and his cheeks; then suddenly, with no warning, he pulls the boxers off Yixing's hips and dumps into it all that's left of the popsicle. The elastic snaps back on Yixing's skin and his whole body gives under a heavy shudder, his upper body raises from the table and one of his arms grasps Kyungsoo's shoulder.

"Asshole." Yixing seethes through his teeth, Kyungsoo looks at him wiggling his hips and clenching his ass, his free hand goes for his boxers, with the intent of freeing himself from the cold mess between his legs. Kyungsoo doesn't let him, obviously. Instead of halting Yixing's hand, he goes straight between his legs, his palm presses the area looking for the popsicle; he feels it nestled behind his balls, right under his perineum. His fingers push it up and the hand gripping his shoulder becomes harsher, Yixing's nails dig into his skin "Take it out." Yixing's strained voice orders sternly.

The area between Yixing's legs is drenched in cold water, it trails down his thighs and it stains unashamedly the gray fabric of his boxers "You're all wet now, 'Xing." Kyungsoo pretends to sound shocked, as if he hadn't envisioned this exact scene moments before. He digs the ice and the small wooden stick against Yixing's sensitive skin once again, this time making sure to palm his dick, not wanting the cold temperature to cool down his arousal. In the meanwhile, he rests his own cock on Yixing's ass, pushing his hips towards it when he needs to relieve some of the pressure.

"F-Fuck, too much-" Yixing's voice falters, stuck in his throat, his hand is still trying to push Kyungsoo off, even as his hips grind against the hands cupping him through his underwear. Eventually, Kyungsoo lets him go, a sweet rush of arousal still swims in his veins, triggered by the sight of Yixing squirming under his ministrations. He fumbles to get the boxers down Yixing's legs, he kneels down to get them off him completely, as soon as he's free, Yixing heaves a loud sigh. Kyungsoo looks up at his back as he relaxes, the tension of seconds prior leaving his muscles in steady waves.

"You always go too far," Yixing speaks up again, Kyungsoo has to agree, partially in an attempt to calm Yixing's distress, but also because he acknowledges that it's quite true.

"I'm sorry." he says and leaves a kiss on the back of Yixing's left thigh, Yixing's back twists, his muscles are out again, gorgeous and powerful, and he looks down at Kyungsoo. His hand threads through Kyungsoo's short hair.

"Stay there," his voice is just above a whisper, Kyungsoo takes in the perfect sight of his face, his cheeks and neck dusted in red and his chest heaving in shallow breaths "We don't have lube." he continues and without adding anything else, he bends his knees and puts his ass on Kyungsoo's face. Kyungsoo can't do anything but accept it, he's left to grasp onto the other's thighs in surprise, his eyes don't know where to look, but his nose and his mouth find their rightful place in Yixing's asscrack immediately. The whole thing makes him snort, but the notion of Yixing sitting on his face and asking to be eaten out doesn't take too long to root in his brain and give to his dick the last kick to a full erection.

His hand closes in a tight fist around his cock and his mouth opens to lay a first lick on Yixing's asshole, the taste is familiar and musky, it has the distinctive flavour of Yixing's skin and sweat. His free hand grips Yixing's hip and pulls him closer, the older man almost loses his balance, but recovers by gripping the table. Yixing's moans and praises travel to Kyungsoo's ears, they only push him to do better, to be even more merciless as he delves his tongue into his hole.

The stunt is shortlived, soon Yixing's moans become breathier and his legs start trembling, his frustration for the long build up seems more than happy to help him find its release. Kyungsoo doesn't want him to come yet, though, so he detaches himself from him and sits on his shins, taking an appreciative look at Yixing's spread rim and the absolute mess of red syrup, saliva and sweat trailing all over his skin. He's about to stand up and finally fuck Yixing on his father's desk, when Yixing turns around and falls on his knees in front of him.

The first thing he does is merge their lips once again, they share only light pecks, while Yixing scoots on the floor, slowly pushing Kyungsoo to sit back and putting himself on his thighs. His hand reaches for Kyungsoo's dick, he grasps it firmly and spreads the drops of pre-ejaculate down its length, trying to coat it as best as he can.

"That's not gonna be enough," Kyungsoo's points out, Yixing looks at him quietly for a moment, then he leaves the grip on his cock and brings his hand to his lips. He spits on it and then goes back to his previous pace on Kyungsoo's manhood "You're being fucking wild today." Kyungsoo's hand pushes Yixing's slightly wavy bangs off his forehead and nuzzles the side of his face, Yixing, despite being a pretty regular Chinese man working in his father's shop, has always been far from caring about norms and expectations, but today it's been one of those days, in which he makes sure to outdo himself.

"At least I'm not the one trying to get ice into people's ass." Yixing snuggles his cheek to Kyungsoo's, their chests collide and the younger man's arms shoot up to circle Yixing's waist. Yixing spreads his legs until he's comfortable and then starts pushing down, one of his arms reaches behind him to hold Kyungsoo's cock to his entrance as he works to get it inside himself.  

When he's gotten it all the way inside, he starts circling his hips, getting used to the intrusion. Kyungsoo still holds his waist and keeps him flush against himself, groans push past his lips as Yixing clenches and relaxes around him.

Yixing raises himself slowly, his movements force Kyungsoo to release his tight grip around him, he settles for clutching his sides and keeping him upright as he pulls himself up and down Kyungsoo's dick.

They're both already on their way to orgasm, having spent so much time on the foreplay has undermined their stamina, especially Kyungsoo's who isn't used to any sort of real physical activity.

The elder man's hips are hypnotic, all of Yixing's movements are naturally fluid and sharp at the same time, the way he roots himself on Kyungsoo's thighs, how his firm flesh moves as he builds up his pace and then his muscles quivering, his back arching as Kyungsoo's manhood massages his prostate; the whole set of amazing visuals leaves Kyungsoo in a day dream, speechless in front of the man doing so much to satisfy both of them.

Not too long after, he's spilling his come into him, Yixing's pace loses momentum, but he keeps moving shallowly, until Kyungsoo takes his dick in his hand and jerks him off to completion, wanting to free his own oversensitive member from the heat of Yixing's tightness.

They lay for a long while like this, the heat completely overcome by orgasmic relief.

Following every climax, there's a dull sense of guilt and shame laying itself on Kyungsoo, reminding him that he has duties to attend, that he shouldn't be doing this; but then Yixing's kissing him and he's once again swept away, drifted far from his urgent thoughts.

The half interest he's deserving to his job it's downright laughable, considering that this whole trip to Changsha was supposed to be a vacation completely devoted to nothing but hard work, a journey to recover his inspiration, his dying passion.

Yixing is looking at him through tired eyes, he's already back to complaining about the weather, Kyungsoo hums and responds to his short sentences, trying hard to burrow himself in the escape that Yixing never fails to offer him, in this small corner store that sells everything but that no one ever seems to visit, owned by a man, who doesn't ever talk about himself. He likes to think he's offering Yixing some sort of distraction as well, it makes him feel better, like he's not the only one struggling to fit into his place in the world.  
   
He likes to think they're both lost and directionless as they roam the streets of Changsha.


End file.
